and the darkness takes over
by theebrunettebeauty
Summary: Allison knows something is off inside of her head and a visit to the hospital to see Isaac may lead her to figuring out her problem.


_author's note: Hello everyone! There's been a lot of speculation over Allison being controlled by a nogistune (take a look at the Allison Argent tag on tumblr if you haven't heard this theory) which resulted in this random short allisaac drabble being written. It takes place after last night's episode. I hope you enjoy it! xxx_

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She went straight to the hospital after her and Lydia's friendly confrontation with the creepy-as-ever, Peter Hale. Or at least she thought she did. Because the problem was she couldn't remember the time between dropping Lydia off at her house and walking through the sliding doors to the receptionist desk.

And the more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to realize that this wasn't the first time she was unable to recall a specific period of time. This terrified her.

She focused her gaze upon Isaac, who laid motionless and unresponsive, the loud beeping from the machine he was hooked up to reminding her that his heart was still beating. He was alive.

Allison shifted in the hard chair she was seated on beside his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position then her current one, but it proved to be impossible. She was too full of anxiety and worry, wishing nothing more than to see the boy in the bed open his clear blue eyes and make some witty remark.

It pained her to look too closely at the third degree burns, running up the length of his right arm, reaching his neck and face. That could have been her. No—it should have been her.

She should have been the one who landed in the electrified water. She should have been the one who had to be resuscitated. She should have been the one currently lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

Not him. Not after all the crap he had already suffered. She couldn't help feeling entirely grateful toward him for saving her life, once again. She didn't deserve him and his selfless heart. Allison slowly inched her fingers toward his hand and gently grasped it, running her thumb softly against his.

And then the strangest feeling began to grow in her chest. It was almost like a longing—a _need_ for the pain that was running through him. She wanted it desperately—was craving for the feeling to spread in her veins. It would make her strong and unstoppable. Her mind felt distant and separate from the rest of her body and that was when she panicked, quickly breaking the contact between their hands. She stared down at her trembling fingers, out of breath, beads of sweat forming on her pale forehead.

She had to get out of there.

Allison leapt out of the chair, nearly knocking it over, and hurriedly made her way out of Isaac's room, down the hallway, taking the stairs to the main level floor, and passing by Melissa McCall before the woman could utter a single word to her.

What was happening to her?

It took three days before the girl risked another visit to the hospital. She didn't tell anyone about what had happened during the last visit, instead trying to solve her strange behavior on her own, and she was fairly confident she had found the answer she was looking for.

He looked better and more like the Isaac she remembered before the accident, the burns already beginning to fade, his skin returning to its normal color. She wondered if his werewolf healing powers were finally kicking in. She couldn't have been there for more than twenty minutes when heard small mumbles sounding from the boy in front of her. Allison didn't dare get any closer, fearing she might lose herself completely this time with him.

She watched as his eyes fluttered opened and he began to gasp, whether out of confusion or panic or both. He suddenly noticed she was there and that seemed to comfort him enough—to the point where he was no longer in such a disoriented state.

"Allison?" It came out as more of a question rather than a statement. His voice sounded weak and she wanted nothing more to reach out and hold him.

"Hey," she replied with a small smile growing on her face, revealing the dimples Isaac had told her he thought were cute one time. "You're awake." Out of everything she could have said, of course that was what came out. As if it wasn't obvious.

"Yeah, I am," he said, doing his best to grin back at her. It ended up being rather lopsided, due to of the burns that still marked his face, but it made her smile even wider at his attempt.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." They both stared at each other for what felt like hours.

Allison broke the silence with, "I'm sorry for getting you into this mess. If only I had been more careful about where I was—"

Isaac cut her off. "Allison, it's okay. Don't apologize. You would have done the same for me."

He had a point, but she knew could have been avoided if she would have been more observant.

"Besides," he added, his trademark smirk growing on his face. "You visited me a few times up here." He brought his good hand to his head, tapping his temple with his pointer finger. "Some of your sexual frustration was resolved."

Allison laughed an actual laugh, so hard she felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. When she regained control of herself she teased, "Well perhaps, Isaac Lahey, the rest of that frustration came be resolved when you're fully healed."

"Works for me," he answered cockily, causing her to roll her eyes. Then he reached out his hand to brush the tips of his fingers across her cheek, and the moment she felt his touch, she automatically jerked back, reeling.

She watched him frown and opened up her mouth to explain. "Isaac—I—I" she stuttered, trying to form a logical sentence.

"Allison, what is it?"

"There's something I need to tell you," she started, wondering if now was really the best time to be telling him about her theory. "You know how Stiles is the nogistune—well I've been doing some research the past few days and I think there are two. I think I am—" and before she could finish, half the hospital, literally, came bursting through the door.

Doctors, nurses, other medical personnel—Melissa McCall—all began crowding around Isaac's bed, asking him questions, checking monitors, adjusting his oxygen levels. She was aware she was getting pulled out of the room and was directed by a blonde haired woman to take a seat in the small waiting area. She was asked several questions about everything that had unfolded in Isaac's room. The nurse informed her she could see Isaac tomorrow, which disappointed the brunette greatly.

As she sat in her car in the hospital parking lot, she flexed her fingers open and close, nervously biting down on her lip.

Tomorrow could be too late.


End file.
